


Easy

by lost_decade



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: Charles is easier than Nico thought he’d be and in a way that makes him a disappointment, yet also a delight.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Nico Rosberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Attempting to post stuff rather than letting it die a sad death in my drafts.

Nico never lets people forget that he’s a world champion too. It would be easy for them to, he’s aware of this. Three years down the line and the youth of the grid getting younger by the year. His own daughters are closer to being a teenager now than he is, those days far off and littered with emotions that he’s hardened his heart against now. Vivi, his girls, his trophy, _ Rosberg _ etched into the metal twice, his own name so far down the list from his fathers but nestled in between a row of endless _ Hamilton_s: proof of what you can achieve if you try hard enough.

Life is easy now and Nico likes easy, can’t get enough of summers in Ibiza and finally being able to ski in the winter, getting to pick his girls up from school.

Easy is awesome.

_ Charles _ is easy.

Charles is easier than Nico thought he’d be and in a way that makes him a disappointment, yet also a delight. He moans so prettily, his skin flushed and damp with sweat, white-knuckled grip on the wooden slats of the headboard never faltering, as if he’s holding on for dear life. His legs are wrapped tightly around Nico’s waist and the words that slip his lips in French and then English (Nico suspects there’s a reason for this) are _ more _ and _ please _ , as Nico rakes his fingernails over his nipples and down his chest to press half-moons into the soft skin below his ribs.

Nico supposes he can see the appeal, yet honestly was he ever really like this himself?

He shifts his weight on the bed slightly, hoisting Charles up by his thighs, allowing for a deeper slide that tears a groan from his own throat as well as from Charles’. 

How does Lewis touch him, Nico wonders. Reverent and gentle, with trembling hands and soothing words cascading from his lips like water on Charles' skin, or rough and possessive, making Charles his bitch and letting the boy know it? Nico knows the joy of both and his heart burns empty and needy for the long awaited renewal of Lewis' affections, which perhaps will never come.

Is it so wrong of him to want to spoil Charles, to mark him like a favourite toy dragged around all Christmas until he’s worn out and discarded in favour of something shiny and new. Or something old and familiar. It doesn’t matter – has never mattered – to Nico, that there are others, guys like Charles or any number of pretty boys that he’s seen discreetly leaving the lobby of the Rocabella at 6am.

It doesn't matter at all. Or perhaps it does, he hates to admit, washing the sticky mess of Leclerc's semen from his skin as the sun is setting through the bathroom window of the Monaco flat. Tomorrow they'll all decamp to Ibiza and the endless pursuit of the sun.

But for now Charles just sighs, spent and used - yes. His skin is marked, marred by lips and kisses devoid of love. 

This is the example Nico had wanted to show.

Easy for it, for anything he can get. He'll do anything for a chance to make you believe in him, anything to play you into loving him.

Nico hopes Lewis does.

He hopes it hurts. 


End file.
